


This is a story about control.

by aryas_zehral



Series: Imagine Me And You (I Do) [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Obedience, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryas_zehral/pseuds/aryas_zehral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did I tell you you could look?"  Quinn asks softly, eyes kind but strict.</p><p>"No," Santana breathes, automatically looking away.  </p><p>"No what?"</p><p>"No Mistress."</p><p>"Good girl.  I'm in control tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a story about control.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to waltzingalong for the beta.

Santana is kneeling by the bed naked, hands behind her back. She knows that her head should be bowed but its not. Instead she is watching her partner who is moving nonchalantly round the room. She watches as Quinn hangs up her suit jacket on the hanger on the back of the door and toes off her pumps to place them at the side of the wardrobe where the shoes live when they've not been put away in their boxes for a while. She watches as Quinn slowly slides down the zipper on the skirt that matches the suit jacket leaving her in a pale cream blouse that hangs down to her thighs hiding her panties from Santana's view. From below the fabric of the blouse six dark ribbons from her garter belt follow the line on her pale thigh to where they are holding up her stockings, the lace at the top teasing in its glimpses of the skin below. Santana watches as Quinn sits down at the dresser and uses cotton wool and cleanser to wipe away the grime and the make-up of the day, leaving her face shining and clean. Her eyes trail down the curves of her body, down to the toes that curl and flex inside the stockings. She is wondering if she will be allowed to touch tonight or not when Quinn twists on the stool, legs parting so that she is sitting with one leg on either side of the corner, so that Santana can see right up under the blouse. Santana's breath catches as her eyes find soft golden curls instead of lace.

"Did I tell you you could look?" Quinn asks softly, eyes kind but strict.

"No," Santana breathes, automatically looking away. 

"No what?"

"No Mistress."

"Good girl. I'm in control tonight." 

From the edge of her vision Santana sees Quinn stand and walk towards her. Her delicate feet pause once she is within arm's reach of Santana. Santana sees her hand come out, fingers brushing down Santana's cheek and across her lips before reaching her chin. Gently Quinn pushes Santana's head up so she is looking at Quinn. Quinn leans down, brushes her lips across Santana's in a sweet kiss, before straightening and stepping closer. Santana's head is now at eye-level with Quinn's crotch and close enough to smell just how turned on she is. Santana fights the urge to squirm, to press back on her heels to get friction against her own mound, knowing she is not permitted to do such a thing, at least not yet. 

"Look up at me Santana. Watch my hands."

Santana tips her head back, follows the line of Quinn's belly up to where her hands and lightly stroking over her own nipples, hard beneath the fabric of her blouse. Once Quinn is certain that she is enthralled she slides her palms over her breasts to meet at the collar of her blouse. Slowly she unbuttons the shirt, leaving the fabric where it is as she does. Santana finds her breath catching at the sliver of skin that is revealed with each new movement, at the nimble fingers so easily undoing the small pearlescent buttons and she longs to just reach up and pull the blouse open. She has done it before and Quinn had laughed and rewarded her with a kiss but that is not the game they are playing tonight. Tonight she must do as she is told. It is torture. She is no good at being patient.

When all of the buttons are undone Quinn pushes the fabric away from her body so that it slithers down her arms and falls gently to the floor behind her. Santana is still watching her hands, does so even as Quinn slides them up her belly, leaving a trail of goosebumps where the fingers have trailed along the sensitive skin. She watches as Quinn rubs along the lace of the garter belt, is torn when her right hand continues up her body to her breasts where she strokes along the lace of the matching bra. Santana notices her take in a shaking breath, at the edge of her vision she sees Quinn bite at her lower lip before her lips fall open, and wonders if she'll be allowed to touch now. 

But no, the hand that had been on her belt diverts from tracing the pattern of the lace with its fingertips and now they meander down to her mound, tangling in the hair it finds there briefly before dipping lower to her groin to trail along her labia. Santana has all but forgotten the hand at Quinn's breasts. 

Quinn tilts her hips forward allowing Santana as better view as she strokes herself, fingers barely brushing the soft skin there at first before parting her lips with her fingers showing Santana the glistening wetness there. Santana draws in a shuddering breath and as she does the smell of Quinn's arousal surrounds her. She imagines she could taste it, wants to taste it, and her mouth waters. As if reading Santana's mind, Quinn dips two fingers into the liquid before reaching out and smearing it across Santana's lips. Santana's tongue darts out, licks the taste from her lips, as Quinn grasped her chin, tipping her head back to reluctantly meet her eyes.

"You are going to make me cum. You will stay on your knees, you will not speak and you may not use your hands. Do you understand?"

Santana opens her mouth to reply but catches herself, nodding.

"Good girl."

Quinn's hand drops from her chin but does not stop touching her, stroking her hair and urging her forward.

Santana shuffles forward on her knees, the carpet below them has left its impression on the skin there and she feels each movement as an uncomfortable scrape. The angle was going to be awkward and without her hands to help position them she would be forced to do the best she could. Once she is close enough to Quinn she rests her head on her upper thigh to get her balance, and breathes for a moment to clear her head. Quinn's scent is stronger here, heady. She turns her head, presses kisses on the skin below. Santana can feel the strap from the garter belt by her ear and the scrape of the lace below her chin, uses it to press the pattern into Quinn's thigh. 

After a few minutes of this Quinn nudges her gently with her thigh and Santana knows it is time to move on. Rocking forward she brings her mouth clumsily to Quinn's mons, running her tongue in broad strokes along Quinn's slit, getting her first taste of her lover. The flavour bursts onto her tongue, coats it, and the scent surrounds her. For a moment she is dizzy-drunk with it. Something low in her belly twists with desire and she shifts her hips as if to relieve the pressure, except, in this position, there is nothing to press into to slack her need. She wonders if Quinn chose it for that reason.

Her tongue worms its way between Quinn's labia, spreading them. She captures one between her lips, sucked on it. The angle is uncomfortable on her neck but the noise of Quinn's shivery breath is her reward. She releases it, laves it lovingly, before dipping between it and its partner. She catches the other lip, repeats the procedure but this time with a soft scrape of teeth. The hand in her hair tightens in reflex. She smiles against Quinn's flesh, eyes closed, and releases it. The hold on her hair loosens and Santana is momentarily disappointed, wants Quinn to put her where she wanted her, to take the decisions out of her hands. 

Her tongue is between the lips now, nose nudging them apart since she doesn't have fingers to do it. She laps at the pool of wetness, feels it sticky on her mouth, on her chin. Feeling her way with her tongue she finds Quinn's clit, sucking on it, using the tip of her tongue to tease, waiting for Quinn's signal. The shivery breaths had been replaced by stuttering, abortive attempts at words, vocalisations Quinn can't quite control. Santana knows from experience that Quinn sometimes chooses to stay as silent as she can during sex, wonders if she had intended to do so tonight. The thigh by Santana's head trembles and she can feel twitches from where Quinn's clamping down on her hip's movements.

Quinn moves unexpectedly, stepping backwards away from her, and Santana sways forward towards her, catches herself before she becomes unbalanced. Santana looks up, confused. Quinn's face is flushed, her bottom lip swollen as if she had been biting it, and Santana can see fading pale marks on Quinn's breasts, spaced apart like finger marks as Quinn reaches behind herself, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Nothing to indicates that the earlier command has been rescinded so she shuffles forward, following after her, knees pressing on the lace of the bra and she crosses it, a curled strap stroking along her thigh, a shivery jolt of pleasure darting to her core.

Quinn sits down on the stool by the dresser, spreading her legs brazenly, her sex framed by the dark garter belt, its straps and the soft cushion of the stool below it. Santana does not look for permission, knows she already has it, fastening her mouth to Quinn's quim as soon as she is close enough. Quinn keens at the contact.

The angle is a different type of awkward. Before it had been slightly too high, now it is too low and the edge of the stool restricts her access, hitting her chin, limiting the stretch of her tongue. After a few minutes Quinn seems to realise this, moving forward until her ass was resting on the edge of the stool, her hands at either side of her for balance. Santana keeps contact as best she can and once Quinn settles redoubles her effort.

She moves down from Quinn's clit, tongue dragging back to the source of the liquid, plunging into the pool. Quinn's stomach heaves, muscles rippling below the skin of her toned belly, and Santana knows that she is close. Santana wriggled on her knees, can feel the dampness on her own thighs and wonders if she could come from the sight, the smell and the sound of her lover coming apart. 

"San.... San..... San," Quinn was panting out her name repeatedly, brokenly, as Santana stabs at her pussy with her tongue, wishing for fingers. Quinn lists slightly to the right and Santana opens her eyes, sees one of the hands that had been steadying Quinn move. She twists her head to follow it, watchs it come up to Quinn's neck, scratching down the smooth skin leaving quickly fading red marks, before pawing at her breast, palm pressed against the nipple. She looks higher, finds Quinn's eyes locked on hers, pupils blown. The sight makes Santana squirm, stomach clenching, and lose her rhythm. She breathes in a shaky breath before blowing it across Quinn's damp skin. She moves back to Quinn's clit, sucking fiercely and pressing hard on the nubbin.

Quinn keens, ass rising off of the stool, as her hand comes down to grab Santana, keeping her there while she spasms. Santana doesn't try to move, doesn't want to move, tongue working Quinn's clit as she rides out her orgasm.

Quinn loosens the hold on Santana's hair as she calms, grips becoming a stroke, as she looks down contemplatively at her partner. Santana feels something stroke across the skin of her thigh, making her shiver at the feel of the silky fabric on her over-sensitive skin. It takes her a moment but she realises, suddenly, that it is Quinn's stocking clad foot. Quinn pulls Santana's head further away from her, tilted her so she was looking up at her even as her toes wriggle their way to Santana's sex, giving her the pressure she craves. Quinn's wetness on Santana's face is cooling as Santana and Quinn watch each other, eyes locked, breaths shallow, skin flushed, as Santana presses down, riding Quinn's foot as she comes.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to change the phrase Quinn's quim but it made me laugh... so I kept it. Judge me accordingly. :S


End file.
